The Middle Child
by Black Eyed Demon
Summary: Sisfic. Molly, Dean's younger twin, Sam's older sister. Told in her point of view. I tried to do something different.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: this is my first fanfiction. I am not really into sisfics (sorry if this offends), but the idea just wouldn't leave me alone. Basically, this is about Dean's twin Molly, who goes to Stanford, and how she deals with the life. I will try not to change the plot too much.**

**I only own Molly. See general disclaimer on my profile.**

**Chapter 1: Pilot**

_Fire. There was so much fire. A baby crying, frantic attempts to save my mom. "Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back! Now, Dean! Go!" those words would stay with my brother forever. Coming into the hospital where I was staying overnight after breaking my arm. "Molly, Mommy's dead. She's in Heaven, with the angels she told you so much about. You and your brother, you have to take care of Sammy now. Daddy's got something to take care of." walking away, saying, "Angels, my ass." that was the day that Dean, my twin, older than me by ten minutes, took it upon himself to care for me and our younger, six-month-old brother Sam. Sammy._

I woke up shaking. That night, the night my mom died, was the night that my life changed. Later, much later, Dean told us that Mom was pinned to the ceiling, her stomach slit open.

"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days," said Dean.

Whoa, backtrack, Dean. As in my brother Dean. The one that I haven't seen in two years, not since he landed in a hospital and they called Sam, his emergency contact. I got out of bed and stumbled into our kitchen/living room. Sam was standing next to Jess, his girlfriend, a protective arm around her shoulders.

"Jess, excuse us," he said coldly.

" Come on, you can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect us to hit the road with you!" said an outraged Sam as they practically ran out the building. I walked behind them as they bickered about our hunting life.

We were now near the car. "It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing," said Sam. Stanford. Now we were on that subject. Sam said he got accepted to Stanford, Dad said no, Sam left anyways. I joined him a couple months later.

"Dad's in real trouble right now, if he's not dead already. I can feel it. I can't do this alone." said Dean.

"Yes, you can," I said, going into the conversation.

"Yeah well, I don't want to."

"What was he hunting?" I asked.

Dean opened the trunk of his beloved '67 Chevy Impala and opened the bottom, revealing machetes, guns, rifles, bottles of holy water, fake Ids, silver bullets, salt, everything a hunter needs.

He started going through the artistic mess the compartment was. "All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?" he mumbled.

"So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam wondered.

"You went on your own hunt?" I exclaimed.

"I'm twenty-six, guys!" said an exasperated Dean.

Apparently, dad was checking out a series of disappearances out side Jericho, California. All the victims were male, all vanishing on the same five-mile stretch of road. Over the past twenty years, ten men had vanished. Dad went to dig around about three weeks ago.

"I hadn't heard from him since which is bad enough. And then get this voice mail yesterday," Dean continued.

"Dean, something is starting to happen. I think it's serious. I need to try and figure out what's going on. Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger." there was EVP on the distorted recording, saying, "I can never go home," in a sad, female voice.

"You know, in two years, I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing." pleaded Dean.

Sam looked at the house. "All right, we'll go," he said. He said 'we', he dragged me into this. Well, of course I'd go. "We'll help you find him. But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here." he went back inside.

"What's Monday?" asked Dean.

"He has an interview. A law school interview. His whole future on a plate," I said.

"Law school?" said Dean.

I nodded. Sam was probably trying to explain to Jessica why he was leaving. Poor Sam. He though Jess didn't know about the family business. After he had a stupid fight with Jess three years ago, I told her everything and she understood. I told her that mom was killed by something supernatural and that dad spent his whole life trying to find it. He raised us like warriors, trained us to fight every big, bad, and ugly thing that we could find. Sam always wanted a normal life so he went to college. I went to college too, but I left because I was mad. Mad at the job, mad at Dad, mad at everything.

We got in the car. Dean was driving, Sam riding shotgun, and I was in the backseat. The drive was silent, with only Dean's classic rock blaring in the background. We stopped at a gas station in the morning and Dean went to get 'breakfast'. Ten minutes later, he came out of the store.

"Hey, you guys want some breakfast?" he said.

Knowing very well what kind of food Dean got, Sam and I, instantly, as if on cue, said, "No, thanks."

"So how'd you pay for that stuff?" asked Sam, "You and dad still running credit-card scams?"

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro-ball career," said Dean. "Besides, all we do is apply. Not our fault they send us the cards. Well, not us. Bert Aframian and his son, Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal."

"I swear man, you need to update your cassette tape collection," said Sam.

Dean wanted to know what was wrong with it. "Well, for one, they're cassette tapes," I said. "And two, Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica? These are the greatest hits of Mullet Rock!"

"House rules, Sammy" said Dean, "Driver picks the music, shotgun and backseat shut their cakeholes." The great Winchester philosophy.

"Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old, it's Sam, OK?" said Sammy.

"Sorry I can't hear you, the music's too loud!" said Dean while I laughed.

"Check it out," said Dean, pointing to police cars on an old bridge.

He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a box with fake Ids and badges. "Let's go," he smirked.

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" asked Dean.

A man who seemed like the sheriff looked at us. "And who are you?" he said.

"Federal marshals," said Dean. Marshals. He was friggin' kidding right?

"You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?" he said.

"Thanks, that's awfully kind of you," said Dean, flashing the man his copyrighted cocky smile.

"You did have another one just like this, correct?" I asked, bringing us back to the case.

The man confirmed that. He said that there have been others and that he didn't have a clue as to what was going on, earning him a "That's exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys," from Dean. In return, Sam stepped on our brother's foot.

When we were walking away, Dean whacked Sam's head.

"Ow! What was that for?" from Sam.

"Why do you have to step on my foot?" from Dean.

"Why do you have to talk to police like that?" from me. Yeah, I like to interrupt my brothers' conversations. Deal with it!

"Come on, they don't really know what's going on. We're ll alone on this. If we're gonna find Dad, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves," said Dean.

"Can I help you boys?" asked another local policeman. Seriously? Was I friggin' invisible?

"No, sir, we were just leaving." said Dean. He nodded to two FBI guys. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully."

We were walking through the town. Dean pointed to a girl who was putting up 'MISSING' posters of Troy, the guy who vanished last night. "I'll bet you that's her." No shit, Sherlock.

Her name was Amy and she was Troy's girlfriend. We introduced ourselves as Troy's uncles and aunt. We went into a diner with Amy and one of her friends. The diner was empty but we piled into a booth, Amy and her friend one one side, us Winchesters on the other.

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and he never did," said Amy, and her voice broke.

"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" asked Sam in his 'soulful and sensitive' voice.

Apparently not. But, Amy's friend spoke up.

"Well, it's just- I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk." she said.

"What do they talk about?" my brothers chorused.

"It's kind of this local legend," she explained. " this one girl, she got murdered out on Centennial, like, decades ago. Well, supposedly, she's still ot there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up, well, they disappear forever."

We looked at each other. Finally, a lead.

Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in front of a computer at the local library. Well, Dean was at the computer, Sam was next to him, and I sat behind them, their gigantor backs blocking my view. The search results for 'female murder hitchhiking' and ' female murder centennial highway' gave us nothing, but when Sam pushed Dean aside, saying that angry spirits are born out of a violent death and typed in 'female suicide centennial highway' he got one result. The one result that we needed.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river. An hour before they found her, she calls 9-1-1. her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die. '''Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,'' said husband, Joseph Welch.''" read Sam.

"That bridge look familiar to you?" No, Dean. We do not recognize the bridge that Troy disappeared from.

At around midnight, we went to the bridge. "So this is where Constance took the swan dive," said Dean. "Dad would have been here, he's chasing the story, we're chasing him."

"OK, so now what?" said Sam.

"Now we keep digging till we find him. It might take a while." said Dean.

"Dean, I told you, I have to get back by-"

"Monday" said Dean, turning to face him. "Right. The interview. Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl? Does Jessica even know the truth about you? Does she know about the things you've done? No? Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but you're gonna have to face up to who you really are."

"Who's that?" challenged Sam.

"One of us," I said. "Dean, he doesn't want to. He doesn't have to."

"Well, you have a responsibility!" said Dean. Yeah, trust him to defend Dad.

"To dad, and his crusade?" cried Sam. "if it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone, and she isn't coming back."

All I could do was stare as Dean shoved Sam to the side of the bridge. What Sam said was true, but that didn't make it hurt less, or angry Dean more. Out of the three of us, Dean remembers Mom the best. He remember what she looked like, smelled like, what she made when we were sick, what she would sing to us. I don't remember much, but I do remember that when she was alive, Dad was a father, not a drill sergeant. Sam remembers nothing. Dean released Sam and started walking away.

"Sam, Mol," said Dean as he looked at Constance who was on the railing. We ran towards her but she jumped off.

We heard a familiar rumble of an engine. "Dude, who's driving your car?" said Sam, but Dean held up the keys.

The car started driving toward us, fast. There was no way of escape other than over the side of the bridge. We jumped. Almost instantly I felt cold, muddy water embrace me and I lost the fight to keep my head above the water. I looked up. Of course, Sam and Dean would still be on the bridge.

"Molly?"

"What?" I grumbled.

"You alright?"

"I'm super," I said, crawling out of the water. I looked up and saw identical smirks. Seriously! I could have drowned! In response to yet more grumbling, I heard laughter. Laughter! They're friggin' kidding! They are enjoying this! Oh, Dean, I will so get you back for this. When I met them on the bridge they said that I smelled like a toilet.

"Thanks!" I said cheerily and climbed in the backseat.

"Car alright?" asked Sam. Seriously? You're worried about the car?

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems alright now." answered Dean. "That Constance chick, what a bitch!"

By the time we got to a motel, the lovely aroma of the river was all over the car.

"One room, please," said a grouchy Dean to the old motel clerk.

"You guys having a reunion or something?" he said, "that other guy, Bert Aframian, he came in and bought out a room for the whole month."

We decided not to ask where Dad was staying, instead we used the process of elimination and indeed found the room. Papers were attached to the walls, salt was on the floor, a half-eaten burger was on the nightstand. Dad hasn't been here for at least a couple days.

"Salt, cat's-eye shells, he was worried, trying to keep something from coming in," Sam noted.

While Dean was observing the walls and muttering about how little Constance's MO made sense, Sam looked at the wall on the other side of the room.

"Dad figured it out," he said, shaking his head, "He found the same article we did. We're dealing with a Woman in White."

"You sly dogs," chucked Dean. "Alright, so if we're dealing with a Woman in White, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."

"She might have another weakness," I pointed out.

"No, Dad would want to make sure. Does it say where she's buried?" asked Dean.

"No, not that I can tell," Sam said, perusing the article. "If I were Dad though, I'd go ask her husband."

"If he's even alive," I said.

"Alright. College People, find us and address while I go wash up," said Dean.

"Hey, Dean, what I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry," started Sam.

"No chick-flick moments." said Dean.

"Alright, jerk!"

"Bitch!"

Yes, apology the Winchester way. I had to smile. When Dean came out of the shower, Sam was listening to voice messages from Jess.

"I'm gonna grab a little something to eat, you want anything?" he said.

Sam, as usual, declined the offer. I was hungry so I went with Dean because I did not trust him to bring me food. Food, however, was not in the near future. Cops, the same cops that we met at the bridge were waiting for us.

Dean called Sam. "Dude, five-oh, take off. They kinda spotted us. Go find Dad." he turned around to face them. "Problem, officers?"

"Where's your partner?" they asked in the no-time-for-games voice.

"Partner? What partner?" Dean laughed.

"So, fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards, you got anything that's real?" Said one of them.

"My boobs," Said Dean. Ugh, Dean! Seriously! The cop agreed with me and slammed Dean against his car.

"So you want to give us your real names?" asked an older guy at the station.

"We told you, Nugent, Ted and Miranda Nugent." said Dean. Oh, I hate him so much right now.

The guy pulled out a journal, Dad's journal . He never goes anywhere without that. There was a note in it, saying, 'DEAN 35-111'', coordinates. The interrogation was cut short when there was a report of shots fired. Poor guys, they actually believed it. When we were alone at the station, I took a paper clip out of my boot and freed us from the cuffs. I dread saying it, but practice makes perfect.

We called Sam from a pay-phone. "Fake 9-1-1 phone call Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal."

"You're welcome," came the reply. "By the way, the husband was unfaithful, we are dealing with a Woman in White. She's buried behind her old house."

"Sammy, shut up for a second. He's gone. Dad left Jericho. I've got his journal. And coordinates."

"Dean, what the hell is going on? WHOA!" and then the line went dead.

Dean stole a car and we drove to the Welch's home, breaking more than a few traffic rules. We saw the Impala pull up in front of the house and we saw the ghost attack Sam.

"Duck!" screamed Dean and emptied his salt-filled shotgun into Constance's face through the window.

Sam sat up and drove into the house. Dean and I ran in after him and helped him get out of the car. Suddenly, the ghost appeared and pushed a dresser against us. It wasn't that bad for my ginomungous brothers, but for my 5'3'' self, it was hell. We heard a clutter. Constance turned. "You've come home to us mommy!" cried her ghost children. They rushed to her and caught her in an embrace. Her face contorted in agony and then, all three ghosts were gone.

"She was scared to go home. She was scared to face her kids. You found her weak spot, nice job, Sammy." said Dean, "I'll tell you another thing, if you screwed up my car, I'll kill you!"

We got the car out of the house and were on the road, Jericho blending into the horizon. The coordinates lead to Blackwater Ridge, Colorado, about six hundred miles away.

"If we shag ass, we can make it by morning." said Dean.

Sam opened his mouth to speak. I sighed.

"You're not going. Fine, I'll take you home," sighed Dean. The rest of the drive was silent.

We came up to the house and Sam got out of the car. I followed.

"You'll call me when you find him?" he asked. He said 'me', he thought I was staying. I wasn't so I went to the trunk and grabbed my things. With a final goodbye to Dean, Sam went inside.

Five minutes later, we heard screams of "NO, JESS!" coming over and over from Sam and Jess' room. Then, it erupted with fire. Dean ran in and pulled Sam out. By the time the firefighters came and put out the fire, Jess was dead. She died on the ceiling, her stomach slit open, just like Mom. She burned to cinders, just like Mom. Sam got up from where he sat, on the trunk of the Impala, and opened it. He inspected the weapons and closed it again, saying, "We got work to do."

**Hopefully, you enjoyed. I will continue this, just because I want to see wherein goes.**


	2. Chapter 2

We were on our way to Blackwater Ridge, Colorado. Palo Alto was behind us, and so was Jess. I still hadn't told Sam that she knew. I probably should, but, I don't know how. It pains me to see my brother asleep. When he closes his eyes, its obvious that he hopes to wake up with Jess. When he thrashes in bed, plagued by nightmares about her, I want to jump on him and say, "It's not your fault!" Well, I've done that already. He seems not to believe me.

Right now, Sam was asleep. I say was, because suddenly, he sat up, stifling a scream.

"You OK?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Sam. Yeah, you're fine. Your girlfriend just died, but yeah, you're fine.

"'Another nightmare?" I asked the question that we all knew the answer to.

Sam didn't answer and looked out the window.

"Wanna drive?" asked Dean.

"In your whole life, you never once asked me that," chuckled Sam. Yeah, Dean. I'm your twin, and the time that I wiped a piece of dirt off the window you threw a bitch-fit.

"Just thought you might want to, never mind!"

Seeing the opportunity, I said, "Yes, Deanie, I would love to drive."

"What, are you kidding?" he said, "Let you drive? No, never, no! I would like to get there in one piece." True, the one time I drove the car, I trashed it. In my defense, a demon was after my ass.

"Guys, you're worried about me. But I'm fine!" cried Sam. There it is. That ugly word again, 'fine'. "Where are we?"

"We are just outside of Grand Junction!" I announced.

Sam looked at the map. "Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon," he said.

Dean briefly closed his eyes. "Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you want to find the thing that killed Jessica..."

"We got to find Dad first," finished Sam.

"Dad disappearing and this thing showing up after twenty-two years? It's no coincidence," I said.

"Dad will have answers, he'll know what to do," added Dean.

"It's weird," noted Sam, "these coordinates he gave us, this Blackwater Ridge, there's nothing there. It's just woods. Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere? "

That question went unanswered and about an hour later, we parked near the management center of Lost Creek, Colorado National Forest.

"So, Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote, it's cut off by these canyons here," Sam pointed to an 3-D map of the area, "rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place..." his speech drifted off into thin air.

"Dude, check out the size of this friggin' bear," said Dean.

"And, a dozen or so grizzlies in the area," Sam and I said together.

"It's no nature hike, that's for sure," added Sam.

A ranger walked in. "You boys aren't planning to go out near Blackwater Ridge?" he asked.

Boys? Seriously? Are all these people ignoring me on purpose. Sure I was 5'3'' and wore hand-me-down clothes from my brothers (I like wearing them), but I DO NOT like being ignored. Got it, Ranger?

"Well, that Hailey girl's quite a pistol, huh?" asked Dean. The conversation continued without me. Yes, apparently, I am invisible!

By the time I was done with my silent ranting, my brothers were outside arguing, and I had to interrupt the fight.

"Let's just get to that Hailey girl's house, OK?" I pleaded.

My brothers nodded,, still shooting daggers at each other.

The girl, Hailey, lived across town, so the drive was pretty long, considering the fact that it was spent in icy silence. We came up to her door and rang the doorbell. The girl who opened the door was tall', had wavy black hair, and was staring at my brothers whose bodies blocked me from view.

Dean went into the I'm-all-charm mode. "You must be Hailey Collins. I'm Dean, this is Sam. We're rangers with the park service," I pushed my brothers aside, "And this, is our sister Molly. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over, we wanted to ask you some questions about your brother Tommy."

"Let me see some Id," she said. We slapped our Ids against the screen door and came in when she nodded in approval.

We came in, Dean mouthing some ridiculous crap about her being the perfect girl for him.

Sam got right to business. "So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?"

"He checks in every day by cell," said Hailey, "He e-mails photos, stupid little videos. But we haven't heard anything in over three days now."

"Well, maybe he can't get cell reception," offered Sam.

"He's got a satellite phone, too," deadpanned Hailey.

"Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?" asked Dean.

The boy sitting silently at the table looked up. "He wouldn't do that."

"Our parents are gone," explained Hailey, "it's just my two brothers and me."

Sam asked to see the pictures Tommy sent and Hailey complied. She pointed out Tommy. She also showed us his last message, a video that Sam asked to be sent to him.

"We'll find your brother," said Dean, "we're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing."

"Then maybe I'll see you there," said Hailey, "look, I can't sit around here anymore, so I hired a guide. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself."

Dean nodded. "I think I know how you feel."

It was evening and we were at a bar.

"So Blackwater Ridge Doesn't get a lot of traffic, local campers mostly, but still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found." Sam started.

I continued throwing facts at Dean. "In 1982, eight people vanished. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack. The same thing happened in '59 and '36."

"Every twenty-three years, like clockwork?" asked Dean.

"Yup," Sam popped the 'p'. "Watch this. Here's the clincher. I downloaded that guy Tommy's video to the laptop. Check this out." he clicked some keys and slowed the video down. Dean and I watched a shadow move in the background of the video. "That's three frames. It's a fraction of a second. Whatever this thing is, it can move." explained Sam.

Dean smacked Sam's arm. "I told you something weird was going on."

"Congratulations," I smirked.

"One more thing," said Sam. "in '59, one camper survived the supposed grizzly attack, just a kid, barely managed to crawl out of the woods alive."

"Let's go talk to him!" I said.

Early the next morning we were talking to the man. He was about fifty-five to sixty years old, and lived alone in an unkempt house.

"Look, rangers, I don't know why you're asking me about this." he said. "It's pubic record, I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a-"

"Grizzly?" asked Sam. "That's what attacked them?"

The man hesitated but nodded.

"The other people that went missing that year, those bear attack too?" asked Dean, stepping forward. "What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?"

"If we knew what we were dealing with," I said, " we might be able to stop it."

The man turned towards us. "I seriously doubt that," he said. "Anyways, I don't see the difference it would make. You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did."

Sam stepped forward, understanding and sensitivity in his eyes. As Dean called it, it was the 'trademarked puppy-dog look'. "Mr. Shaw," he began, "what did you see?"

"Nothing," sighed Shaw, "It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar, like no man or animal I ever heard. It came at night, got inside our cabin. I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door, it unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I never even woke up until I heard my parents screaming. Dragged them off into the night. Why it left me alive... I've been asking my self that ever since."

We looked at each other.

"It did leave me this, though," said Shaw, unbuttoning his shirt and showing us four scars, claw marks."There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon."

We left shortly after that.

"Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors," Dean was saying, "they just go through the walls."

Sam nodded, stating that it was probably something corporeal. He got a snide comment from Dean in return.

"The claws, speed that it moves," I said, "could be a skinwalker or black dog." my remark was met with wide-eyed stares. "What, I'm still here, you know."

Once we got to the car, my brothers got into another argument about the hunt. I knew that neither of them meant any of the thing they said. The main cause of the argument was frustration at not finding Dad. I could feel it too, I just didn't let it engulf me.

We decided to go to the woods with that Hailey girl, and protect her. So, in the morning, we did just that. Our little search party consisted of Hailey, her brother Ben, an arrogant guide named Roy, Sam, Dean, and me.

During our hike through the woods, Hailey discovered that we weren't really rangers with the Park Service. And she was OK with it. Roy acted as if he was superior to us, pissing me off. More than once, Sam had to hold me back from attacking him. A couple hours into the hike I got tired, courtesy of sleeping on the floor while your gigantor brothers got the twin beds in the motel room. Sam offered to carry me.

We stopped in a pretty random spot. "This is it," Roy announced, "Blackwater Ridge."

Sam moved forward, with me still on his back. "What coordinates are we at?"

Roy took out his satellite GPS, "Thirty-five and minus one-eleven," he said. Those were the coordinates from Dad.

Dean also moved forward and confirmed that there was no sound of life other than us.

Pretty soon, Roy found Tommy's campsite. Blood-stained clawmarks were everywhere. Hailey broke down, screaming for her brother. It was understandable, but the creature we were dealing with could be nearby so we had to shut her up. Dean called Sam and me over to where he was standing, away from the group.

"The bodies were dragged from the campsite," he said. "but here, the tracks just vanish. It's weird."

I spoke up, "Tell you what, it's no skinwalker or black dog."

We went back to the campsite. I was still on Sam's back.

Suddenly, we heard a man screaming for help and, naturally, ran to help him. When we returned, our backpacks were missing. That meant that we had no food, and, no way to get help.

Sam came up to Dean and me. "We need to talk, in private."

When we were out of our companions' earshot, Sam took Dad's journal and opened to a page that described a windigo. Windigoes were not common this far west, they were usually found in Minnesota. But, the speed of the creature we were hunting and the way it can mimic a human voice, well, everything pointed to a windigo.

We explained all of that to Hailey and Ben. We also told them that Tommy could still be alive because windigoes store their food. The only thing that can kill this thing is fire. We drew Anasazi symbols on the ground to protect ourselves. At night, when the windigo attacked us, Roy shot at it. And ran after it. The next morning, he fell out of a tree, his neck broken.

The windigo's clawmarks were all around us. We were following them, but we were lead into a trap. The windigo attacked us, grabbing Dean and Hailey. She screamed but by the time we got to where they were, they were gone. Sam, Ben, and I started following the clawmarks, but Ben found a peanut M'M. Dean always had them with him. The candies made a trail.

"Better than bread crumbs," commented Sam.

The trail lead to an entrance to an abandoned mine. It fit all the criteria of a windigo's lair. A sign read 'enter at your own risk' but, come on, who listens to those?

The mine was dark, and a strange odor of mold, decay, and animal fur was all around us. The windigo walked by us and it took most of my self-control not to scream. When the creature was out of sight, I walked forward a little and fell through the floor. When Sam dropped down, he pointed to two figures hanging from the ceiling. Sam stepped closer, and discovered that they were Dean and Hailey. Sam cut them down and Hailey went to another part of the room where she discovered Tommy, alive.

"Look," said Dean, pointing to a couple backpacks, "Flare guns." Yes, Dean, you get to set something on fire, whoopee!

Sam smiled. "Those'll work."

We started walking towards the exit but we heard the windigo walking out way. Dean walked towards it, screaming insults. Sam and I lead the Collins' outside. The windigo, however, had other plans. It drove us to a corner and started advancing. Luckily, Dean came up behind it and shot it with the flare gun, right n the heart.

It took us a couple hours to get out of the forest, and when we were out, we called 9-1-1. Tommy was going to be OK. The authorities, with our help, put it down to a grizzly attack. Dean got lucky and got a goodbye kiss from Hailey.

"Sam you know we're gonna find Dad, right?" said Dean once everyone left.

"Yeah, I know," said Sam, "But, in the meantime, I'm driving."

No, you are not gonna get another chance brother. If Dean offers you a chance to drive and you refuse, there ain't gonna be another offer. Imagine my surprise when Dean threw the keys to Sam.

I ran to the car to ride shotgun, but, Dean, the wonderful brother, pushed me aside. I got in the back. That was my kingdom. Hey, I like that, Queen of the Backseat. I started humming the theme of Star Wars as we drove away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Just a sec...**

**Me: Bob, do we own Supernatural?**

**Bob: No! *sobs***

**Me: See? All you've done is upset Bob! *sniffles* and me! *has temper tantrum***

**Anyways, onward with the story!**

We were sitting in a diner in Michigan, looking for a case. Dean was looking at a newspaper from a little town called Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. He circled a picture and put the pen in his mouth.

A waitress came over to us, "Can I get you anything else?" she asked.

Dean grinned but Sam cut him off. "Just the check, please."

She looked let down at the sold tone and walked away, Dean checking out her ass.

"You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while," he said and pointed to the waitress. "That's fun."

I pointed out that fun like that was fun for only him.

"Here, take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin, last week, Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water, nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago."

"Two days ago?" I asked.

"Yeah," said Sam, "It's done for closure or whatever, you bury an empty coffin."

"Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, other people stop looking for them!" I cried and stormed out of the diner. From what I could tell, the argument continued without me because when my brothers joined me in the car, things seemed tense. And I mean tense.

About four hours later, we pulled up near the Carlton's house.

"Will Carlton?" asked Dean when a young man opened the door. He proceeded talking when Will nodded. "I'm Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamill, and that," he added when I came up to the house, "is Agent Fisher. We're with the U.S. Wildlife Service."

We said that we wanted to talk to him about his sister's drowning.

"She was about a hundred yards out," said Will. "That's where she got dragged down."

"And you're sure she didn't just drown?" asked Dean.

"She was a varsity swimmer. Practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub."

"So, no splashing, no signs of distress?" asked Sam.

"No, that's what I'm telling you."

"Did you see any shadows in the water, some dark shape breach the surface?" continued Dean.

"No, again, she was really far out there."

"You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?" Who do you think we're hunting Dean, Nessie?

"No, never. Why? What do you think's out there?" Nessie, Will. He thinks Nessie's out there.

We left after that, without talking to the father. Our next destination was the police station, where we talked to the local sheriff.

"Now, I'm sorry," he said, "But why does the Wildlife Service care about a few accidental drownings?"

"You sure it's accidental," I asked, "Will Carlton saw something grab his sister."

"There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There's nothing even big enough to take down a man! Unless it was the Loch Ness Monster." No. Do not encourage Dean. We are not hunting a lake monster! "Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes, the mind plays tricks. Still, we dragged that entire lake, we even ran a sonar sweep to be sure, and there was nothing down there. That's the third missing body this year. These are people from my town, people I care about. But, I can tell you one thing, it won't be a problem much longer."

"What do you mean?" asked Dean.

The sheriff looked at him. "Well, the dam, of course. It's falling apart, and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it. So they've opened a spillway. In a few months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town either. But, as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that."

"Exactly," Wow, Dean.

A girl, about my age, taller than me, walked in. "Sorry, am I interrupting?" she asked.

The sheriff stood up, and my brothers and I followed suit. "This is my daughter," said the sheriff.

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm Dean." I was surprised that Dean didn't start drooling.

She smiled back. "Andrea Barr, hi."

A boy, around six years old, looked at us, from behind Andrea. When Dean asked him his name, he freaked.

"His name is Lucas," the sheriff said solemnly. "My grandson' been through a lot. We all have. Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know." with those words he walked away.

"You know, now that you mentioned it," said Dean, "Could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?"

Andrea smiled at him. "Lakefront Motel, go around the corner, it's two blocks up."

I can't believe it! Dean asked her to show us! On the way there, he flirted with her, saying 'kids are the best'.

"There it is," she said, pointing to the motel. "Like I said, two blocks" she turned to Dean. "It must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pick-up line."

Sam turned on Dean. "Kids are the best? You don't even like kids!"

"I love kids!" was the reply.

"Name three kids that you even know," I challenged.

"That's easy, you, Sam, and a kid that used to go to your school."

"Kids that you know, Dean," said Sam. "And family doesn't count."

Dean stood there with his mouth hanging open, as Sam and I walked away. "I'm thinking!" he shouted.

Pretty soon, Dean joined us in the motel room.

"So, there's the three drowning victims this year, and, six more, spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up it's pace." said Sammy.

"So what, we got a lake monster on a binge?" asked Dean. Let it go, Big Bro, let it go. There is no lake monster. Am I the only one that thinks that?

"This whole lake monster theory, it just bugs me," thank you, Sammy, "Loch Ness, Lake Champlain, there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing. Whatever is out there, no one's living to talk about it."

Dean pointed to the screen. "Wait, Barr, Christopher Barr, where have I heard that name before?"

"Christopher Barr, the victim in May," I read off, "Oh. Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas' father. Apparently, he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued. Maybe we have an eyewitness after all."

Dean looked at us. "No wonder the kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die.. it's not something you just get over."

Sam and I said nothing.

We knew that we needed to talk to Lucas. So, we went to the playground. Andrea and her son were there so we came over to her.

"Can we join you?" asked Sam.

She turned our way and smiled. "I'm here with my son."

"Mind if I say hi?" Dean asked as he walked away.

Sam and Andrea started talking about Lucas and the effect his father's death had on him. I wasn't part of the conversation. I looked at Dean and Lucas. Dean was talking, but the kid just sat there, looking at whatever he was drawing. I stood there and watched. Dean was very good with kids, hell, he raised Sammy and me. Sam mostly, but we were always his responsibility, not Dad's. Pretty soon, Dean came back.

"Yeah, we heard, sorry," he said. Oh, they were talking about Chris.

"What are the doctors saying?" asked Sam. He was talking about the fact that Lucas hasn't said a word since his dad's death.

"That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress," said Andrea.

"That can't be easy, for either of you," I sympathized.

"We moved in with my dad," oh, right, the sheriff, "He helps out a lot. But... when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw..."

"Kids are strong," said Dean in his legit serious voice. "You'll be surprised at what they can deal with."

Andrea smiled. "You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with to tell you the truth. Now, he just sits there, drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish- oh hey, Sweetie."

We didn't get to hear what she wished because Lucas came up to us and gave Dean a picture of a house. He came silently, and left without saying a word. We said bye to Andrea and went to the motel. Then, Sam went to get food.

When he came back he said, "So, I think it's safe to say that we can rule out Nessie." Seriously? You're still on the lake monster theory?

"Why?" asked Dean. Ummm, because there is no lake monster!

"I just drove pat the Carlton house, Will Carlton is dead. He drowned. In the sink."

"What he hell?" asked Dean. "So you're right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else. Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? Something that controls water. Water that comes from the same source."

"The lake!" I exclaimed.

"Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining, it'll be dry in a few months," said Sam. "Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time. Whatever it is, we know it's connected to Bill Carlton. It took both his kids. And, I've been asking around. Chris Barr? Bill Carlton's godson."

I stood up. "Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit."

"Yep, Agent Fisher, Lets go," said Sam, popping the 'p'. I hate when he does that.

We pulled up near his house and saw him on his dock. "Mr. Carlton!" called Sam as we walked to him.

"We'd like to ask you a couple questions if you don't mind. We're from the-"

Bill interrupted Sam. "I don't care who you're with. I've answered enough questions already. My children are gone. It's... it's worse than dying. Go away, please."

We turned around and started waling toward the car. Dean looked at he house and took out the picture Lucas gave him. It was a crude but accurate drawing of Bill's house.

We went to Andrea's house and said that we wanted to speak to Lucas.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea. What good is it going to do?" Andrea shook her head, but let Dean speak to her son.

Sam and I stood with Andrea while Dean talked to the kid. A couple minutes later, he emerged from Lucas' room with another picture. We left Andrea's house in search of the yellow house in the drawing.

"You know, Andrea said Lucas didn't draw like that until his dad died," stated Dean.

"There are cases, going through a traumatic experience, could make certain people more sensitive to premonitions, physic tendencies. Whatever is out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow?" Sam, how much random weirdness do you have in your brain?

"It's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns. We have no other leads," I pointed out.

"Alright, then. We got another house to find," said Sam.

"Problem is, there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone," said Dean.

"See this church?" asked Sam, pointing to the picture. Oh, that's a church. "I bet there are less than a thousand of those."

"Ooh, college boy thinks he's so smart!" cried Dean.

"Dean, you know when you were speaking to Lucas, what you said about Mom..."I said, "You've never told us that before."

"It's no big deal,"said tough-guy Dean, "oh, God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?"

Sam and I laughed.

Pretty soon, we saw a white church. A yellow two-story house was right behind it. We came up to it, and rang the doorbell. The old lady who opened the door let us in.

"We're sorry to bother you, ma'am," said Dean, "But, does a boy live here by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, have a red bicycle?"

When Dean mentioned the boy, the lady, Mrs. Sweeney, got really sad. "No," she choked out, "not for a very long time. Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now. The police never—I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared. Losing him, its... its worse than dying."

"Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?" asked Sam.

"He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school," she explained. "And he never showed up."

Dean held up a picture that was on the table. "Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, 1970."

We talked to the lady for a little longer and left.

"Okay, so this little boy, Peter Sweeney vanishes, and it's all connected to Bill Carlton somehow." said Sam when we were in the car.

"Bill sire as hell seems hiding something,"Said Dean.

"Wait guys, Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished. What if Bill did something to Peter? What if Bill killed him?" I asked.

"Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge, it's possible,"answered Dean.

"I think it's time we paid Mr. Carlton another visit," said Sam.

When we pulled in next to Bill's house, we saw Bill in a motorboat on the lake. We ran to the dock, telling him to turn back, but it was too late. His boat flew up in the air, sending Bill into the lake.

We walked into he police station.

"Sam, Dean, Molly, didn't expect to see you here!" greeted Andrea.

"Oh, so you're already on a first name basis," exclaimed the sheriff when he walked out of his office. He turned to his daughter. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I don't have time for dinner. You and Lucas, you better head on home."

Then, Lucas started whimpering and ran to Dean. He grabbed my brother's arm and started pulling it. It was a full-on panic attack. Finally, Andrea and Dean managed to calm him down after which, he was led away home.

My brothers and I went into the sheriff's office.

"Just so we're clear, you saw something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill, who is a very good swimmer, by the way, into the drink, and you never see him again?" asked the sheriff.

We nodded.

"And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake, and what you're describing is impossible, and you're not really Wildlife Service. Yeah, I've checked. The department's never heard of you three."

Dean looked at him as if this was all a big misunderstanding. "See, now, we cam explain that."

"Enough, please. The only reason you're still breathing free air is because one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering that boat right before you did. So we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and we can hold you as material witnesses to the Bill Carlton disappearance, or we can sum all this up to a bad day, you can get in your car, put this town in your rear-view mirror, and never darken my doorstep again."

I looked at my brothers. "Door number two sounds good."

Half an hour later, we left.

"Green," said Sam. "Green. The light's green." We were driving way from the town.

Dean turned right.

"Uhh, the interstate's the other way," I pointed out.

"We're not going on the interstate," countered Dean.

And why were we not going? Because the kid was scared? Wow, Dean. Whoever you are, give me back the I-don't-give-a-shit, pain in the ass brother.

It was pretty late but we drove to Andrea's house. Dean rang the doorbell and Lucas, breathing heavily, opened the door, and beckoned us upstairs. Water, from a room that I supposed was the bathroom, seeped out from under the door. Dean kicked the door down, and Sam went to get Andrea who was drowning in the tub as we held back Lucas.

We stayed at Andrea's house overnight. In the morning we asked the routine questions.

"What can you tell us?" asked Sam.

"It's doesn't make any sense. I'm going crazy." Sam shook his head. "I heard... I thought I heard...there was this voice, it said, 'come play with me'.

Dean came over to us, carrying a photo album. "Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?" he asked.

"No. except, that's my dad, right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures," answered Andrea.

Dean turned to us. "Chris Barr's drowning, the connection wasn't to Bill, it must have been to the sheriff."

"Bill and the sheriff," I said. "they were both involved with Peter."

Dean walked over to Lucas who was walking out side. He stopped a short way from the house. My brothers began to dig and found a red bike. Peter's red bike. I was about to ask if Peter himself was there, but someone grabbed me and held a gun to my head. It was the sheriff.

Sam tried reasoning with him, but the sheriff ignored him. Andrea came out of the house and demanded answers. I didn't really keep track of the conversation because there was a big-ass gun at my temple. All I know is, suddenly Andrea cried out for Lucas, and everyone ran to the dock.

Oh. Lucas fell in. Lucas fell in! By brothers jumped in after him, leaving Andrea and me on the dock. Andrea turned around.

"Daddy!" she cried.

Jake, the sheriff, was walking into the lake. We screamed for him to stop but he didn't.

"Peter, if you can hear me, please Peter, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Peter. Lucas, he's just a little boy. Please, it's not his fault, it's mine, please take me. Let it be over!" his speech was cut short by the fact that Peter pulled him under.

A moment later, Sam came up, shaking his head. Andrea started sobbing. I looked at the lake.

"Look!" I cried.

It was Dean, he was holding Lucas.

The next day, we were gassing up, preparing to leave. Andrea shouted at us, telling us to wait. She and Lucas came over to us with a pate of sandwiches.

"Can I give it to them now?" asked Lucas.

Dean and the kid went to the car. Sam and Andrea started talking. I didn't pay attention to what they were saying. I said bye to Andrea and walked to the car.

"Zeppelin rules!" exclaimed Lucas. I wonder who taught it to him? Oh, yes. Dean.

Andrea and Sam came over to us. Dean, as usual, got a goodbye kiss. We piled into the car, and drove away, never to see the town again.

Dean turned to us.

"Lucas, Peter Sweeney, and the waitress in Tampa, remember her? Yeah, her kid," Dean finally named three children that he knows.

**Author's note: OK, I don't normally beg for reviews like crazy, but, *picks up a knife and waves it around like a crazy person* Give me reviews! Please?**

**Bob: Ignore her.**

**Me: also, I am adding an original chapter between Bloody Mary and Skin so, if there is anything that you want to see in it, please tell me by way of review.**

**Bob: Don't ignore her!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I'm really sorry that I didn't update in a while. In my defense, this is Summer vacation, so I just enjoyed myself for, like, ten days. So, I give you episode/chapter four! Please enjoy, and even though I don't beg for reviews, please give them. Oh, and, my updating schedule may be a little off for the next two or three weeks. Sorry! Anyways, read on...**

"Yeah," sighed Sam.

I mumbled groggily and turned toward him. Wait, it was 5:45. AM. His sigh woke me up at friggin' 5:45 AM?!

"But, it's not just her," continued Sam. "It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job...man, it gets to you."

He wasn't talking to me. He was talking to Dean. And you know what Dean said? He said that Sam can't let it get to him. Really, Dean.

"All this, it never keeps you up at night?" smirked Sam.

Dean shook his head.

"You're never afraid?" I ask.

Dean shakes his head again.

Come on, Sammy, look under the pillow.

Wait, he read my mind? Sam reached under Dean's pillow and took out a knife.

"That's not fear," countered Dean. "That's precaution."

Yeah, believable.

Sam yawned. "Whatever, I'm too tired to argue."

Dean's cellphone rang. It was some guy named Jerry Panowski. Oh yeah, Jerry. Dad, Dean, and I helped him with a poltergeist after Sam left for Stanford. He wanted some help on something that he didn't go in depth in on the phone. We piled into the car and drove off to Kittaning, Pennsylvania.

Jerry worked at some airplane place. He met us out front.

"Thanks for making the trip so quick," he said when we were inside and walking to his office. "I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around." He turned to Sam. "Your siblings and your dad helped me out a couple years back."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, they told me, it was a poltergeist?"

"Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie!" cried some random dude that was walking by.

"Hey, nobody's talking to you, keep walking!" snapped Jerry. He turned to Sam again. "Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something- if it wasn't for you guys, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?" Sam nodded. "Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time." Sam looked at him disbelievingly.

I nodded at my brother. Damn right, Dad talked about him.

Jerry turned to Dean. "Oh, hey," he said. "I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing anyway?" Dean muttered something about Dad working. "We lose the old man, we get Sam, even trade huh?" continued Jerry.

Sam shook his head. "No, not by a long shot."

Jerry turned toward his office. "I got something I got you guys to hear."

We went into the office and Jerry started playing a tape recording.

"I listened to this," he said. "Well, it sounded like it was up your alley. Normally, I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia Flight 2485. It was one of ours. Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now they're saying mechanical failure. The cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over one hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. The pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is taking it very hard. Like it was his fault or something. I don't think it was."

"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, list of survivors-"

Sam cut him off. "Right. And any way we can take a look at the wreckage?"

Jerry frowned. "The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage... Fellas, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance."

Dean smirked. "No problem."

We got the passenger manifests and the list of survivors, and left.

I curled up in the backseat of the Impala and fell asleep to the steady rhythm of one of Dean's old cassettes. About three hours later, I felt a large hand pat my back. I ignored it, and the hand stopped. Almost immediately after that, _Back in Black_ blared from the speakers and I jumped up, hitting my head on the ceiling of the car, to the amusement of my brothers. I got out of the car and saw a sign that read RIVERFRONT PHYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL PRIVATE CARE FACILITY.

"The EVP on the cockpit voice recorder said 'no survivors', but there were seven survivors. The third on the list, Max Jaffey, checked himself in here. I think that it's because he saw something weird. We don't know what to think yet. It could have been a haunted flight or a phantom traveler," reeled off Sam to catch me up.

"I don't understand," said Max when we started talking to him. "I already spoke with Homeland Security."

Great, we were Homeland Security. That's illegal even for us.

"Right," said Dean. "Some new information has come up. So, if you could just answer a couple questions..."

"Just before the plane went down," chipped in Sam, "Did you notice anything unusual? Strange lights, weird noises, maybe?"

Jaffey shook his head. "No, nothing."

Dean looked at him. "Mr. Joffey-"

"Jaffey."

"Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right? Can I ask why?" asked Dean.

"I was a little stressed, I survived a plane crash."

I frowned. "That's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?"

Max his head."I—I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Dean ignored him. "I think you did see something up there. We need to know what."

"No!" the guy almost screamed it. He was quiet for a minute. "I was delusional, seeing things."

Dean and I gave Sam a look. Sam's face softened, and he went into full Puppy-Dog mode.

"It's OK," he said. "Just tell us what you thought you saw. Please."

Jaffey hesitated but thought better of it. "There was... this... man. And... uh.. he had these eyes," Oh, whoopee! A man has eyes. "These... uh... black eyes. " Oh, not good. "And I saw him... I thought I saw him... he opened the emergency exit." He looked up. "But, that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door."

OK, so this could be a ghost. "This man, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage." asked Sam.

He was met with an incredulous look from Jaffey. "What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me." OK, not a ghost.

We said our goodbyes and left.

I again curled up in the backseat and fell asleep. This time, when my brothers tried to wake me, I ignored them. What did wake me up was the ringing of Dean's phone. It didn't even ring once, it only rung half of one ring, and it stopped. I called the number back, only to find that it was a pay-phone. I didn't think twice of it, and went back to sleep.

When Sam and Dean returned, I didn't tell them about the call only because I forgot about it.

I sat up. "Where were you?" I asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You remember that the guy, Max something or other, said that a passenger right in front of him opened the emergency exit during the flight? And that he had black eyes?"

I nodded.

Sam continued Dean's speech. "George Phelps, seat 20C. He was a middle-aged dentist with an ulcer. We just spoke to his wife. She said that he was terrified of flying. That's not exactly evil personified."

Sam paused and Dean spoke up. "What we need to do is get inside that warehouse. Check out the wreckage."

Sam turned to him. "If we're gonna go that route, we better look the part."

We went back into town and parked in front of a store called **MORT'S **_**for style**_. My brothers went into it while I went to a nearby MACY'S. I came out a half hour later, in a black, knee-length skirt, tights, a white button-up shirt, and a suit. To top it off, I was wearing black, five-inch heels.

My brothers came out of **MORT'S **in matching suits.

Dean had disgust etched in his face. "Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers," he grumbled.

Sam looked him over. "No, you don't," he said matter-of-factly,"You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance."

"I hate this thing!" cried Dean.

We got in the car and drove to the ware house.

We showed the security guard our badges. He eyed us quizzically. Oh, yeah. These guys go around in twos, not threes.

"I'm their supervisor," I said, "they're new."

The man bought my story. He actually bought it!

So, anyways, we went in. Dean pulled out an EMF meter. At least, I think it was an EMF meter.

"What is that?" asked Sam.

"It's an EMF meter. It reads electromagnetic frequencies." said Dean.

"Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is. But, why does that one look like a busted-up Walkman?"

Dean smirked. "'Cause that's what it made it out of. It's home-made."

"Yeah," replied Sam. "I can see that."

"Hey, guys!" I called. "Come check out the emergency door handle!"

it was covered in some kind of yellow powder.

Dean picked it up and sniffed it. "What is this stuff?" he asked.

"One way to find out," stated Sam and pulled out a zip-log bag to put the stuff into it.

Wait, the guy carries zip-log bags in his pocket? Who does that? I was about to ask him that, but the alarm started ringing and we started running. Next time we plan on going to a government warehouse, I'm wearing flats, not five-inch heels! We came up to a fence and Dean threw his suit on it to protect himself from the wires.

"There monkey suits do come in handy!"

We went to Jerry's office to figure out what the yellow stuff was.

"Huh," said Jerry while looking through the microscope, "This stuff is covered in sulfur."

Sam looked up. "You're sure?"

"Take a look for yourself," Jerry heard a commotion outside. "If you fellas will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire."

"Hmm," said Dean when he looked into the microscope, "Not too many things leave behind a sulfuric residue."

"Demonic possession?" I asked.

Sam nodded. "That would explain why a mortal man would have the strength to open an emergency door during a flight."

Dean frowned. "But this goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. It's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane? You guys ever heard of something like this before?"

Sam and I shook our heads.

Dean sighed. "Whoopee! Research time!"

I looked at Sam. My geeky younger brother loved researching.

We came back to the hotel room. The walls were covered in pictures and articles. The first thing Sam did was log on to his computer. He was already reading for an hour when he spoke up.

"So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it."

"But none of them describe anything like this," answered Dean.

Sam turned back to the screen. "That's not exactly true," he said, "According to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease."

"And this one causes plane crashes?" asked Dean the Skeptic. We nodded. "Alright, so what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?"

"Yeah," answered Sam, "You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?"

Dean was pacing. "What?" I asked.

"I don't know, this isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for it's own sake. This is big. I wish Dad was here."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, me too."

My phone rang., "Hello?" I asked. "Oh, hey, Jerry."

_My pilot friend, Chuck Lambert, is dead._

"What? Jerry, I'm sorry, what happened?"

_He and his buddy went up in a small twin. About an hour ago, the plane went down._

"Where'd this happen?"

_About sixty miles west of here, near Nazareth._

"Hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon." I hung up.

"Another crash?" asked Sam.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Let's go," No, really, Dean?

When we met Jerry again, we found sulfur in what as left of the plane.

"All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert," Sam stated. "This demon sounds like it was after him. With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case, it would be good news."

"What's the bad news?" asked Dean.

"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this, so did flight 2485." answered Sam.

"Forty minutes? What does that mean?" said Jerry.

"It's biblical numerology," supplied Sam, "Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death." Sam, how much information fits in that giant head of yours? "I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in."

"Any survivors?" I asked.

"No," said Sam. "Or not until now, at least. Not until flight 2485, for some reason. And the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?" What did the EVP say?

"'No survivors'," said Dean. "It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job."

We left Jerry's work and drove off.

I lay down in our couch-like backseat and opened my book. Sam was on the phone pretending to be some guy from a plane survey service.

"Watcha reading?" asked Dean.

"Harry Potter," I said.

"No, really, what are reading?"

"I am seriously reading Harry Potter."

Dean was about to respond but Sam brought us back to the case.

"OK, I took care of all the survivors. Our only wild-card is the flight attendant Amanda Walker. Her sister, Karen, said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight. It's her first night back on the job." Sam looked at Dean. "This is a five-hour drive, even with you behind the wheel."

"Call Amanda's cellphone again. See if you can head her off at the pass." said Dean, staring at the road.

"I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off., Sam sighed. "God, we're never gonna make it."

"We'll make it," stated Dean, still staring at the road.

Four hours and a million traffic violations later, we ran into the airport.

Sam pointed to the 'Departures' screen. "Right there. They're boarding in thirty minutes."

"OK, we still have some cards to play. We need a phone." soon, Dean did find a phone.

Dean started calling. "Hi."

Pause.

"I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on Flight 424."

Pause.

"Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Headfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here."

Pause.

"Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so-"

Pause.

"You what?"

Pause.

"Uh, well... there must be some mistake."

Pause.

"Guilty as charged."

Pause.

"He's really sorry."

Pause.

"Yes, but he really needs to see you tonight, so-"

Pause.

"Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic."

Pause.

"Oh, yeah."

Pause.

"No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda! Damn it!" oh, she hung up on him.

"Alright, it's time for plan B. We're getting on that plane." announced Sam.

Dean shook his head. "Now, just hold on a second."

"That plane is leaving with over one hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, the plane is going to crash. We're getting on the plane,we need to find the demon and exorcize it. I'll get the tickets. You guys go get whatever you can out of the trunk, whatever will make it past security. Meet me back here in five minutes." Sam looked at our brother. "Are you OK?"

Dean looked around. "No, not really."

"What? What's wrong?" asked Sam.

"Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh..." Dean trailed off, trying to show with his hands exactly what he had a problem with.

"Flying?" I asked.

Dean nodded. "It's never really been an issue until now."

"You're joking, right?" said Sam.

"Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere?"

Sam said that we'll do this one on our own but Dean's older brother instincts kicked in and he went with us. We managed to get one the plane. Dean got the isle seat, Sam sat in the middle, and I got the window.

Dean was white-knuckling the seat handle. "Just try to relax," coaxed Sam.

"Just try to shut up," snapped Dean.

"Dude, are you humming Metallica?" asked Sam.

"Calms me down," answered Dean.

"Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused. We got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism."

"On a crowded plane, that's gonna be easy."

"Guys, please. Just stop, OK? Whoever is possessed has some sort of chink in the armor for the demon to worm through. An addiction or emotional distress. Dean, if you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession. You've got to calm down. You said that this is Amanda's first flight after the crash, right? I'm guessing that she must be pretty messed up right now."

Dean turned to a flight attendant. "Are you Amanda?" she shook her head. "Oh, sorry."

Sam pointed to the back of the plane. "That's gotta be her."

Dean got up to talk to her.

"Wait," I whispered, "What is she's already possessed?"

"There's way's to test that," Dean got out a bottle of Holy Water.

Sam snatched it out of his hands. "No. I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of god."

"OK," Dean started to walk away.

"Hey, say it in Latin," I added.

"I know," Dean walked away again.

Sam smirked. "Hey! In Latin, It's 'Cristo'."

"Dude, I know, I'm not an idiot!"

Dean walked away and Sam started looking through Dad's journal.

A couple minutes later, Dean came back. "All right, well, she's got to be the most adjusted person on the planet," he grumbled.

"You said 'Cristo'?" asked Sam. "And?"

"There's no demon in her, there's no demon getting in her. So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone, anywhere," said Dean.

The plane shook.

"Come on, that can't be normal!" cried Dean.

"Hey, hey. It's just a little turbulence," said Sam.

"Sam, this plane is going to crash, OK" whispered Dean. "So quit treating me like I'm friggin four! Stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap. It's not helping!"

"Dean, remember what I told you?" I said, referring to the part that fear makes him open to demonic possession. "Calm down."

"Good," said Sam. "Now I found an exorcism in here that I think is going to work, the Ritual Romano. It's two parts. The first expels the demon from the body, which makes it manifest, it actually makes it more powerful because it no longer needs a body, it can wreak havoc on its own. But, the second part sends the bastard straight to hell, once and for all."

Dean got up and started walking up and down the isles with the EMF meter. Sam and I came up to him.

"Anything?" I asked.

"No, nothing. How much time we got?" Dean replied.

Sam looked at his watch. "Fifteen minutes."

The meter lit up and started whirring as the cabin door opened. "Cristo," said Dean, causing the co-pilot to flinch and turn around, eyes black.

We were walking to the back of the plane to get Amanda's help.

"She's not gonna believe this," scoffed Sam.

"Twelve minutes, dude," reminded Dean.

"Oh, hi,"said Amanda when she saw us, "Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope?" God, what did they do back here?

"Actually, that's kind of what we wanted to talk to you about," said Sam.

Amanda got over a second of confusion, "OK, what can I do for you?"

"This is gonna sound nuts but we really don't have time for the 'truth is out there' speech right now," said Dean.

Sam interrupted him. "Look, we know you were on flight 2485."

"Who are you?" asked Amanda.

"We've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down the plane. It wasn't mechanical failure. We need to stop it from happening gain, here, now," Sam spoke quickly, trying to save time.

Amanda shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm very busy," she mumbled.

She started to walk away but Dean held her back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second. I'm not gonna hurt you, OK?" he said. "But listen to me. The pilot from 2485, Chuck Lambert, he's dead. He died in a plane crash. That's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?"

"There was something wrong with 2485. There's something wrong with this flight too. Amanda, you got to believe us," begged Sam.

"On... on 2485, there was this man, he had these eyes." she said.

"Yes! Exactly!" I cried.

"What are you asking me to do?" asked Amanda.

"Get the co-pilot. We need you to bring him back here," answered Dean.

Amanda hesitated but did as she was told, and a minute later, the co-pilot and she walked through the curtain.

As soon as the man was in sight, we jumped on him and duct-taped his mouth shut. Amanda was screaming but Sam managed to get her outside the curtain. Sam started the exorcism, and the demon writhed in pain. It threw dean back,and managed to un-tape its mouth.

"I know what happened to your girlfriend!" it screamed. "She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!"

Dean managed to subdue the demon by way of a punch, and Sam finished the first part of the exorcism.

The swarm-like demon flew out of the man and into the plane. Almost instantly, the plane started shaking. The journal slid away from us and Sam ran after it. I grabbed onto Dean as the plane plummeted down, head-first. All I could hear was screaming, all I could feel was fear, but then I heard sighs and sobbing. We went back to our seats, and the pilot, deciding not to risk anything by continuing the flight, turned back.

Traumatized passengers we escorted out of the plane by paramedics, and were then questioned by authorities. We hurried away from the hassle. Dean got a quick smile and a mouthed _Thank You_ from Amanda.

Dean frowned at Sam. "You OK?" he asked.

"Dean, it knew about Jessica," sighed Sam.

"Sam, I'm going to tell you what I told your sister, these things, they read minds, they lie. All right, that's all it was."

Sam didn't say anything, he just walked to the car, and we followed.

"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed," Said Jerry. "Thank you."

"No problem," said Dean. "Oh, by the way, how did you get my number? I've only had ot for about six months."

"Your dad gave it to me," What? " I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number, and his voice mail said to give you a call."

He thanked us again and left. We drove for a awhile but Dean pulled off the road and called Dad.

"This doesn't make any sense, man" said Sam. "I've called that number about fifty times, it's always been out of service."

Dean put the phone on speaker and Dad's new voice mail rang loud and clear.

_This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean, 785-555-0179. He can help._

**Author's note: OK, so I'm not entirely sure I like this chapter, because it's mostly Molly observing everything (It will change in the future), but, I wrote it, so... whatever. **

**Did I say that I owned SUPERNATURAL? Didn't think so.**

**Bye!**

**PS: This is going to be continued.**


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